


A Fight Before Christmas

by IronicSnap



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, I'm not sorry, Rhyming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronicSnap/pseuds/IronicSnap
Summary: Though "A Night Before Christmas" may be overdone,I wrote one anyway, because rhyming is fun.





	

'Twas a week before Christmas, in a Numbani mall,  
and two Overwatch agents were in the main hall.  
Tracer and Reinhardt searched stores and boutiques,  
as the young pilot's shopping was not yet complete.

Tragically, poor Tracer could not comprehend  
what to get her scientist gorilla best friend.  
Reinhardt had bought his presents well in advance,  
but he joined her and talked her through her frantic rants.

When through the front doors there arose such a clatter,  
The two whirled around to see what was the matter.  
Parading inside were two infamous crooks,  
one holding grenades, and the other, a hook.

It was instantly clear that the chill winter air  
didn't phase the small fires singeing Junkrat's hair.  
Roadhog, meanwhile, was as massive as ever.  
Both were still quite shirtless despite the cold weather.

"G'day folks!" called Junkrat, his voice filled with cheer,  
"We're here for the sales, so you'd better steer clear!  
No-one's stopping my shopping – you all can back off!  
Ain't that right, Roadie?" His companion just coughed.

The pair were well known, and the crowds all ran scared –  
But Reinhardt and Tracer were going nowhere.  
While Junkrat was cackling, enjoying his game,  
Lena grabbed her phone and she called them by name:

"Now Winston! Now Genji!  
Now Mercy and Pharah!  
Hey, Jesse! Hey, Torbjörn!  
Hey, Lúcio, D.Va!  
There's trouble downtown!  
A twenty-three nineteen!  
So come on and join us down here on the scene!"

"It's no use!" said Reinhardt with a nervous frown.  
"As far as I know, the whole comm link is down!"  
"Then I guess it's just us!" Tracer gave him a smirk.  
"We'll stop that big brute and that mad, scrawny jerk!"

"We don't have equipment! Can we do it alone?"  
"Of course we can! Heroism's in our bones!  
We don't need all that stuff; we're already the best!  
And besides; _this_ thing is still strapped onto my chest."

Laughter exploded through Reinhardt's large frame.  
"My friend, your conviction's as warm as a flame!  
Forgive me my fears; I'm old, and I worry –  
But together we'll smash these two in a hurry!"

"That's the right spirit! I'll handle Junkrat.  
The big guy's your problem; you alright with that?"  
"Perfect!" yelled Reinhardt. "Let us enter the fray  
and save Christmas the old-fashioned Overwatch way!"

Wasting no more time, Tracer leapt into action.  
Fighting evil was such sweet satisfaction.  
"Hiya, boys! Haven't seen you fellas since Peru.  
Mall's closed, but the jails would be happy to take you!"

Junkrat's palm met his forehead. He let out a shriek.  
"We only just got here! Where'd you come from, ya freak?!"  
"I got a part-time Christmas job as a mall cop.  
Now I'll show you the meaning of 'shop 'til you drop!'"

With a wink of her eye, she broke into a dash.  
Up a near escalator she flew like a flash.  
She was sure from the rage twisting on Junkrat's face  
the smaller Australian would surely give chase.

She was proven correct, but in Junkrat's defence,  
Being manic and cruel does not mean you are dense.  
"Eyes forward, Roadhog! There could be more around!  
They cling to each other, these Overwatch clowns...!"

As Junkrat ran upstairs, Roadhog stayed by the door,  
and soon noticed Reinhardt, in front of a game store.  
Roadhog huff'd through his nose and flung his hook with might.  
The chain's metal shone in the artificial light.

Stifling a yell, Reinhardt quickly rolled away  
(He was certain he would regret __that__ the next day.)  
He slid into cover behind a display  
depicting St. Nick on his shiny red sleigh.

Roadhog just grunted. "Is that your whole plan?  
We both know you can't beat me, so stay down, old man."  
"I'm old?" cried Reinhardt from behind the sleigh.  
"I can't help but notice your hair's just as grey!"

Fully aware that his foe was unarmed,  
Roadhog strode forth with Intent To Cause Harm.  
Hook at the ready, he closed in on the sled  
But once he arrived, he suddenly stopped dead.

Santa rose from the sleigh, his rosy cheeks lustrous,  
a dark harbinger of festive Yuletide justice.  
His twinkling black eyes, each as dark as a coal,  
Bore down on Roadhog and drilled into his soul.

With no hammer, Reinhardt used the statue instead  
And he brought Santa down straight onto Roadhog's head.  
His foe was instantly put out of commission.  
'Claustrophobia' gained a new definition.

On impact, the figure's brittle plastic shattered.  
Then Santa's face all over the floor was scattered.  
Reinhardt cradled the statue. "I'm sorry, my friend.  
We'll honour your sacrifice; it's a noble end."

One floor above them, in an artisan food store,  
Junkrat fought the battle, but was losing the war.  
Try as he might, his constant barrage of grenades  
had thus far only wrecked a stand of lemonades.

Tracer giggled and whooped, as jolly as an elf,  
As she blinked in and out of space-time itself.  
Junkrat growled in frustration. "Why can't you stay still?!  
All this zipping around's gotten me feelin' ill!"

"Bit of a stomach ache? Well, boo ruddy hoo!  
That'll be nothing after I'm through with you!"  
Ready to finish things, she bore down on him,  
dodging each shot with her normal vigour and vim,

Until she closed in and, so lively and quick,  
pulled off a superbly executed dropkick.  
She knocked the Australian – "Take that, you nutter!" –  
into a stand of exotic peanut butter.

"Hold on a sec..." Tracer read one jar's label.  
"I've found Winston's present – didn't think I'd be able!  
I guess I should thank you. These will work like a dream!"  
Junkrat silently wished it was still Hallowe'en.

The day had been saved, and the crowds soon were calmed,  
with Junkrat and Roadhog shoved in a police van.  
In less than three days, they'd have both broken out.  
As they say in gift season, it's the thought that counts.

Reporters descended to capture the story,  
For the agents this was well-known territory.  
Their voices rang out through the cold winter air,  
"Merry Christmas to all – and bad guys, beware!"


End file.
